


Unlocked Stories

by asahinayuuta



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asahinayuuta/pseuds/asahinayuuta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes hold untold stories, he holds a happiness you can't but help to so selfishly want, all you want it to understand the feeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlocked Stories

His eyes hold stories untold, waiting for the right one to unlock them. He is oblivious to the fact you want to unlock them. You want to know how he feels. His feelings toward you. Are they as messed up as yours toward him?

You have never felt this feeling before, you are oblivious to what it is. You don’t even know whether to like it or punch your gut for ever having the feeling. The odd thing is it only occurs around him. Only when you are near him, talking with him, only when you are with him. This feeling never occurred to you when you were with Enoshima, so you trust it is not hatred, and oddly, knowing this makes you pleased. 

The feelings are stronger than any other you have ever felt. Stronger than the hatred you felt, stronger than the happiness you’ve witnessed, stronger than any confusion you’ve encountered. They hold an overwhelming amount of power and control it engulfs you in a wicked state of confusion (and despair, but you have been in that too long). 

He sits across the table, paying no mind to you. He eats the disgusting creations the restaurant calls food. You notice for the first time you have been staring at your lap and your food has been here for too long, cooling off, you wonder if it will be worth eating. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself by only picking at it a little then put it down. You decide it will be easier to leave it.

“Um, Kamukura-kun, uh, are you going to eat your food?” he asks. You can’t read his expression. It is an odd mixture of confusion and worry you suppose, but you don’t understand why the feelings would show for you. You aren’t worth the worry, especially not for him to have to worry about you. You wish he didn’t, it would make it easier. Yet, you still have the feeling devour you as the flicker of worry continues. “It is probably cold” you reply. 

He pokes at the bread. “Oh, okay, you could at least eat your salad though if you won’t eat the chicken”. You didn’t really want to tell him from the beginning, but you are a vegetarian and the meat never appealed to you. You pull the salad bowl up and slowly eat it. You don’t get far when you decide you are done, but Naegi is finished and you don’t care, you didn’t plan on eating in the first place, you thought you were going to a coffee shop alone, but you still feel the twang of that feeling thinking about not being with him. 

…..

That night he looks at you after you drop him off at his house. He speaks words that you don’t hear clearly due to the muffled sound of something in your ear. You nod your head and see his stern expression, confused too by the response you had given. You are unaware of what he said and afraid to make him repeat himself. You say sorry and leave him.

….

You still wish sorry wasn’t the last thing you said to him. You walk on this world falling down around you in absolute despair. The feeling has reached far beyond its limits and cannot take the prison it stands in. You   
l o v e Naegi Makoto. He was your world and now all your world has turned into is despair. You cannot take the feeling of loneliness that corrupts and tortures your body.

Not only has your love for him corrupted you, despair too. And you mean the girl.

Her name is like salt water entering a open wound in your mouth.

It tastes of blood and you can only feel the disgust dance across your tongue just as she would want.

You see a small brown haired boy enter your vision, and you think it could be him. But surely you are delusional. He is most likely dead along with the other ninety-eight percent of the school. The likeliness he survived despair is almost funny, him surviving the mutual killing pushes it to absurd. And she knows that your despair would be to never see him again. 

It is most likely she killed him herself, in some painstaking way, a way she enjoyed with that look in her eye, the one that held more than despair, but calling it insane is an understatement.

You had always wished for more words to exist that were able to describe things better. We do not have a clear vocabulary. Nothing can describe her absolute craziness she became. Even if there was, it’d become an overused, over exaggerated word anyway. 

As the boy comes closer into view you can tell he is running. Running to you, not crazed, or mad. He is happy to see you. Because it is him. He is alive. He is hugging your waist and sobbing into you with such great amount you don’t understand how that many tears can be produced for someone as low and boring and complex as you. You never thought anyone would cry for you.

But yet, all in all, you find yourself crying, so maybe it was fair.


End file.
